A Second Chance at the Other Path
by PansPerson
Summary: When a ghost from Elsie Hughes' past reappears in her life she is forced to make a long-overdue confession. Series 2 AU.
1. Chapter 1

**_My first attempt at writing! I've been a long time lurker on this site and was finally inspired to do some creating by the amazing Charles and Elsie stories out there. My thanks go out to those authors; I only hope this can go some way to repaying even a small amount of the enjoyment I've gained from your work :)_**

**_I've had to play with the established timeline a bit to make this work, hopefully it doesn't matter too much._**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, and if I did no one would watch because Downton Abbey would consist of long character pieces between Charles & Elsie and Robert & Cora, interspersed with scenes of O'Brien falling down the stairs.**_

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><p><em>25th April 1896<em>

To my darling boy,

I don't know if your parents will ever tell you about me or let you read this letter, but I write it in the hope that one day you will understand why I did what I am about to do. And how much I love you, no matter where you are.

As I hold you in my arms I can almost convince myself to hold on to you, to believe that we will be able to make it together and that I will be able to give you all the things that you deserve. But I realise it is not possible. If you stay with me you will never want for love or affection, but no amount of love can provide food or a roof over our heads. Life would always be a struggle for us and I cannot do that to you, no matter how much it hurts to say goodbye.

I have a good position in a respected household. My employers are good people who have always treated me with great respect and kindness. However, their kindness cannot possibly extend to continuing the employment of an unmarried mother.

Your father is a good and honourable man and I am ashamed to say that I have not been brave enough to tell him of you. If he knew, I am certain he would insist that we marry and that he provide for his wife and son. I cannot allow that to happen - not only would we lose our homes and our jobs, but I would have to live each day with the knowledge that I had forced my family into poverty when there was another path that would injure only myself. Please remember that this was my choice and that I gave your father no say in the matter. You are only two days old but I can already see how much you will look like him. You'll be tall and strong and kind and loyal. He would be so very proud of you, as I will be whenever I think of you.

Should you ever wish to find me, I would dearly love to meet the fine man that I know you will become. You should enquire in the village of Downton in Yorkshire.

Enjoy your life, my beautiful boy. You will be in my heart and my thoughts and my prayers every day of my life. Please forgive me for leaving you; it is the most painful and difficult thing I will ever do.

Your loving mother,

Elsie Hughes

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><p><em><strong>So, what do you think? I've got a good idea where this is going for a fair few chapters yet, so there'll be more to come soon *fingers crossed*. Good wishes and hugs have been known to inspire me :D<strong>_


	2. Chapter 2

_**I've just realised that I won't have access to my computer for a couple of days. Since this chapter was already written I thought I might as well post it! Hope the time jump isn't too much of a disappointment.**_

_**I don't own the Downton characters, I'm just borrowing them. I promise to put them back in their box when I'm done.**_

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><p><em>15th October 1916<em>

_Please forgive my rudeness, I have attempted to draft this letter at least half a dozen times, but I still find myself at a loss as to how I should address you. How does one open their first letter to the mother they've never met?_

_I hope that you are well and that life has been kind to you, as it has to me. In the letter you left for me you wrote of working in service at a respected household. I confess that I know little of what your life must be like, but I have heard many good reports of the Earl of Grantham, whom I believe to be your employer. Therefore I trust that you still enjoy the kindness and respect that you deserve._

_I would very much like to get to know you, even if that can only be through correspondence. Your letter suggested that this would also be your wish but I understand that many things may change in twenty years. If you do not wish to hear from me again I will respect your wishes with no ill feelings. Know only that I understand the choice you made when I was born. Perhaps I felt differently when I was younger, but now I can say only that there is nothing to forgive._

_With all my best regards_

_Your son,_

_James Richardson._

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><p>Elsie ran her fingertips across the signature, her eyes drifting lovingly over the words once more, taking in every detail of the neat handwriting and trying to imagine her son as he had written it.<p>

_Her son._

The words brought forth so many conflicting emotions: love, shame, pride, fear, joy. The love she felt in that lonely room when she held him for the first time had been overwhelming. She'd looked down into that perfect, tiny face and known with absolute certainty that she would bear any pain if it meant protecting him. Her little Jamie.

A tear escaped and trickled slowly down her cheek, touched that his parents had kept the name she'd given him. It was far from the first tear she had shed for her boy, but it was the first happy one since that day, when she'd counted fingers and toes and laid featherlight kisses across his head and wished for the world to melt away.

With a deep breath and a hammering heart she realised, with mounting trepidation, that it was time for the conversation she's dreaded for two decades. The long overdue confession to Charles Carson that he had a son and, despite the close friendship they'd built over the years, she'd never been able to tell him.

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><p><strong><em>I have a feeling that Mr Carson isn't going to be pleased...<em>**


	3. Chapter 3

**After three complete rewrites and a lot of crossing out, I've finally managed to put together a third chapter that I don't hate. I'd be very interested to hear what people think.**

**Thank you so much to those lovely people who reviewed the earlier chapters. Your encouragement kept me going through writing this one!**

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><p>It had been a long day for Elsie. After receiving that wonderful letter, she had tried to avoid Mr Carson as much as possible, worried that he would sense her distress and somehow force the truth from her before she was ready to tell it. When she did run into him on the back stairs, he'd smiled his usual gentle smile and she'd been unable to meet his eyes, unwilling to see the kindness there that would soon be replaced by hurt, or worse, anger.<p>

At dinner she kept her eyes trained on her plate. Whenever she looked up she'd seen Mr Carson's confusion in the furrow of his brow, the unspoken question hovering in his eyes. But now, the last of the servants had just gone upstairs and the light spilling under the door of the butler's pantry told her that he was still awake. Elsie knew it was time.

She knocked hesitantly on the door, a small part of her still hoping that he wouldn't hear and she could retreat to bed.

'Come in'.

Taking one last deep breath, she turned the handle and gently pushed open the door. Mr Carson was sitting at his desk, head bent over a ledger. He looked up at the sound of the door clicking shut behind her.

'Mrs Hughes, what can I do for you?', he asked with a small smile.

'There's something I need to discuss with you', she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I thought this might be a good time, but if you're busy...'

He frowned slightly and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. "Does this have anything to do with you avoiding me all day?", the words were harsh but his eyes showed only concern.

"Partly", she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away, feeling lost as to how to continue.

"Mrs Hughes please sit down and tell me what's wrong. I'm sure it can't be as bad as all that".

She took the seat across from him, glad of the barrier that his desk provided. Still, the words would not come and Mr Carson was not helping, looking at her with those warm kind eyes.

"Do you ever think about us?", she blurted out suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"The time we spent … together, just after I came to Downton ...", she stuttered to a stop. "I'm sorry Mr Carson, I shouldn't have". She started to rise from the chair only to be halted by his soft reply.

"Yes"

"Yes?", she sat back down heavily.

He ran a finger along the edge of the desk, unable to meet her eyes. "I think we made the right decision, ending things when we did. But I still look back on that time with fondness". He looked almost bashful at the admission, clearing his throat before continuing, "why do you ask?"

She took a steadying breath. "Do you remember what happened when you came back from London that year?" she asked, staring down at her tightly clenched hands.

"How could I forget, we had to cope without you until well into the next year. I recall that your sister was very ill and you were allowed time away to help care for her". He frowned deeply, "is your sister ill again? I'm sure we can work something out if you need to … "

Elsie interrupted him with a shake of her head, "no, nothing like that".

"Then what?"

"Elsie?" he urged gently after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

"There was never anything wrong with my sister, I lied so that I could get away from the house".

His eyes widened in surprise. "Because of us?" he asked hesitantly.

"Not in the way you think" she answered, more harshly than she meant to. She rubbed the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, already feeling the conversation slipping out of her control. "I'm sorry Charles, that was uncalled for. What I mean is that I wasn't avoiding you because I was unhappy about the end of our relationship".

"But it was me you were avoiding?"

She nodded.

"But why? It might have been awkward for a short time, but we'd have worked things out. We always do".

Elsie sighed. "It was a lot more complicated than that".

"How?"

The point of no return. Elsie could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

"Shortly after you left with the family I discovered that I was pregnant".

She heard his sharp intake of breath, saw his hands tighten on the arms of his chair. His face was a picture of complete disbelief and when he spoke, the words sounded hollow, as if coming from a great distance.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We couldn't keep the baby, couldn't be a normal family. I thought it was better if you didn't know".

"Better?" he said incredulously. "It was better for you to lie to me and to the family? You could have written to me, I would have returned in a heartbeat".

"And what then? We'd have had to leave Downton with no references and very little hope of getting other jobs in service".

"We'd have coped, somehow. I would have found other work".

"And you'd have been happy? Scraping a living in a factory or on a farm? How long before you started to regret it? How long before you started to hate me for trapping you?"

He looked affronted at the suggestion. "You really think me capable of such callousness?"

"I couldn't risk it; I couldn't ruin all of our lives."

Charles sank back into the chair, running a hand unsteadily over his face. "Where did you go?"

"Manchester. A friend, someone I once worked with, let me stay with her". Elsie was transported back to those first difficult weeks after she'd left Downton. "It wasn't easy, but even at the worst times I still felt like it was the right thing to do. After a few months I met a young couple who I later discovered couldn't have children. They offered to adopt the baby and I knew they'd be able to give him so much more than I could".

Charles' head snapped up. "Him? It was a boy?"

"James" she said softly, unable to repress the small smile, "he had your eyes".

Somehow, those simple facts seemed to suddenly make everything real to him. His shoulders slumped as he stared numbly down at his hands.

"A son". The deep murmur was so soft that Elsie barely heard it. "I have a son". His tone spoke of utter bewilderment and a sadness that broke her heart.

"I'm sorry. I know it's difficult to take in, but I.."

"Mrs Hughes." Elsie recoiled slightly at the sudden formality. "I think that's enough for tonight, we both have busy days tomorrow. I will say good night".

With that he rose and strode purposefully towards the door. It was a moment before Elsie processed the abrupt end of the conversation but she recovered in time to reach out and grasp his arm as he walked past. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall and she tightened her grip slightly, willing him to look at her.

"Stay, please. Let me explain".

He took a deep shuddering breath and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "Not tonight, no more tonight. I can't think".

With that he was gone, leaving Elsie alone in the butler's pantry with tears stinging her eyes.

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><p><strong>So there we go, hope it doesn't seem too out of character. The first draft had Carson being far too accepting. The second got very angry and hysterical. We Brits generally don't deal with extreme emotion in a dramatic way – it's all about quiet suffering and making a cup of tea. Perhaps Mr Carson has gone to put the kettle on.<strong>

**I can see the next chapter being another difficult one for me. I will update as soon as I can :-D**


	4. Chapter 4

_**This took longer than I'd hoped, but real life intervened. Hopefully the longer chapter will make up for the delay!**_

_**Huge thanks to everyone who has commented so far, in particular DowntonIsMyLife for being my first ever reviewer; consider this a good luck in your exams present :-)**_

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><p>Elsie watched the dawn creep slowly across the ceiling. The night had brought little rest; scenes from the previous evening replaying over and over in her mind. Every time she closed her eyes she could see the look of desolation in Charles' eyes as she'd told him about James and feel the way he'd tensed as she reached out to him. In the fitful bursts of sleep she'd managed, her dreams had offered up more tortures of their own: images of a furious Charles vowing never to speak to her again and convincing Lord Grantham to dismiss her for her deception.<p>

Despite the bone-deep weariness she felt, Elsie would be glad to start the day. She was eager to lose herself in the familiar tasks of running the house and push the worries from her mind.

ooooo

As she descended the stairs and approached the servants' hall, she could feel her jaw tightening as she fought to control her anxiety. How would she be able to sit next to him at breakfast as if nothing had changed? Surely the other servants would be able to sense the sudden tension between them? She was at least sure that she could rely on Miss O'Brien to make a difficult situation worse with her barbed comments.

She needn't have worried; when she took her seat Charles' customary place at the head of the table was vacant and remained resolutely so as breakfast was served. When he had still failed to appear when the first service bell rang, she interrupted the hushed conversation between Mr Bates and Anna.

"Mr Bates. Have you seen Mr Carson this morning?"

"I haven't Mrs Hughes, but it's not like him to be late, would you like me to go and check on him?"

"He's not late Mrs Hughes", Daisy bustled in with a cup of tea and set it down in front of Elsie.

"He's not?"

"No, he was already up and about when I came down. He had a cup of tea and went to his pantry before anyone else was up".

"Thank you Daisy", she dismissed the girl and took a sip of tea, staring quietly at the curls of steam rising from the cup as she let it warm her hands. Usually, Elsie would already be upstairs, keys jingling at her hip as she made her rounds to check that everything was running smoothly. But today she couldn't summon up the energy to move, her mind utterly consumed by worries of Charles and his uncharacteristic absence. He didn't usually miss breakfast for anything but the most urgent of jobs, and she knew the business of the house well enough to know that there was nothing of the sort to keep him occupied today.

In the calm that descended as the last few servants hurried away to their morning tasks, she resolved to speak to him now, before he had time to dwell any further on the reason he was avoiding her and work himself into an even darker mood. The other servants probably thought him to be a reserved and dispassionate man, but she knew that couldn't be further from the truth. He hid his emotions beneath layers of propriety and respectability, but the phrase 'still waters run deep' had rarely been more apt.

ooooo

After knocking several times at the door to his pantry and receiving no answer she peeked inside to find the room deserted. A tour of the ground floor rooms still turned up no sign of him and left Elsie with a growing sense of unease. Having known Charles for many years, she had expected his normal reaction to difficult situations; he would throw himself into his work and adopt, if it was possible, even more exacting standards than usual. She had once joked to him that she could judge his state of mind from the straightness of his spine and the stiffness of his collar. To find that he had practically disappeared, leaving the family breakfast to William, was disconcerting to say the least.

She was so preoccupied with those worries as she left the library that she ran, quite literally, into Lord Grantham.

"I'm so sorry m'lord" she apologised quickly as he reached out a hand to steady her.

"It's quite alright", he reassured, frowning slightly as he took in her distracted demeanour. "Are you OK Mrs Hughes? You don't seem quite yourself, if you don't mind me saying".

"I'm fine m'lord. I was just looking for Mr Carson; I can't seem to find him anywhere this morning".

She chewed on her lip for a moment before giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he'll turn up shortly, if only to tell me off for nearly knocking you over".

Lord Robert chucked softly in reply, "well if I see him I shall be sure to send him to you to explain himself".

"Thank you m'lord".

ooooo

Elsie made her way back down the servants stairs towards her sitting room, and the paperwork that awaited her attention. She could spend all morning chasing around the house searching for Charles, but he knew the place as well as, if not better than, she did. If he didn't want to be found then he could most likely ensure that he wasn't.

As she entered the familiar sanctuary, her eyes fell on James' letter, still sitting on her settee from the night before. She had stumbled back here numbly after talking to Charles and read it countless times with tear-filled eyes. She longed to write her reply, to reassure her son of how desperately she wanted to meet him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it without talking to Charles again first. If she didn't she would feel like she was going behind his back and she couldn't bear to see him look as wounded as he had last night. The least she could do, after twenty years of silence, was to tell him everything before she wrote to their son.

She tucked the letter safely in the desk drawer and set to work on the household rotas, her nerves slowly soothed by the routine work.

ooooo

Some time later she was startled from her careful examination of Mrs Patmore's food order by a soft knock at the door.

"Yes?"

As it opened slowly she was surprised to see Charles' sombre face appear in the doorway.

"Mrs Hughes, may I come in?" His voice was quieter than usual, but it had lost the hard edge that had been so painful last night.

Her chair scraped noisily across the floor as she rose quickly and rounded the desk on slightly unsteady legs.

"Of course, please...", she gestured to the small table and chairs set against the wall. She took a seat and watched as he turned to close the door quietly, resting the palm of his hand on the wood for a moment and taking a deep breath before turning back to her.

"Where have you been? I was starting to worry".

"Walking...", the pause that followed seemed to echo around the room for a moment before he continued.

"Thinking..."

He sat down heavily, elbows on his knees and forehead in his hands. Elsie tried to give him time, to let him take the lead, but she could only stand the crushing silence for so long.

"Charles, please say something ... anything"

He raised his head to catch her eyes and she was taken aback by the profound sadness in them.

"I've spent twenty years caring for the daughter of my employer as if she was my own, and all that time my son", his voice caught slightly on the word, "my own flesh and blood, was out there and I didn't even know it. Why didn't you give me a chance Elsie? Am I really that unbending, that unreasonable, that you thought I wouldn't listen?"

She couldn't hold his gaze any longer and dropped her eyes to her own hands, clasped so tightly in her lap that she could see the tendons stretched severely across the back.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you Charles, but as much as it has torn at my conscience over the years, I still believe it was the right decision. As much as I wanted to believe we'd be happy, it was never going to work. And I thought it was better if only I had to live with those memories. I hated giving my baby away, and I could barely look at myself in the mirror, I felt so guilty for not telling you. But what could we offer him? Honestly?"

She reached out and covered his hand where it had come to rest on the table top.

"I never wanted to hurt you, if you don't believe anything else, then please believe that". Elsie swore she could hear the roar of her hammering pulse in her ears as she watched him silently, willing him to give some sign that he understood.

He stared down at their hands for a few seconds before turning his over to squeeze her fingers briefly.

"I'll try"

His touch had lasted less than a second, but Elsie felt it down to her soul; it rekindled her hope, the hope that had deserted her when he'd left her crying in his pantry. As they sat staring at each other in the stillness of her parlour, she started to believe that she might yet be able to earn his forgiveness.

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><p><em><strong>This wasn't the chapter that I intended to write - Charles was meant to know about the letter by now. But it sort of hijacked itself and wandered off...<strong>_

_**Escaped plot bunny if anyone is interested: what was Mr Carson up to, and what was going through his mind, when he did his disappearing act? I don't know, but I'd be interested to find out!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Sorry this took so long. I've got a lot of ideas about what will happen later in the story, but there was a bit of a gap here and it took some time to work out how I was going to fill it. **_

_**Reviews will be rewarded with virtual hugs...**_

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><p>As Charles stared across the small table at Elsie he still couldn't quite believe it. Last night he'd spent hours laying awake in his bed staring blankly at the ceiling. It must have been past two o'clock when he finally gave up on any chance of sleep and came downstairs.<p>

He'd sat in the dark silence of the servants' hall and tried to process the unbelievable but simple fact that he had a son; that he was a father. He thought he understood the concept well enough, after all he'd doted on Lady Mary from the time she was a baby and had played a small, yet significant role in raising her. He thought he loved her like a daughter, but last night he had realised with a gnawing sense of guilt that he would gladly trade every one of those moments with Mary if it meant he could have watched his own boy grow up.

The immensity of what he'd missed out on was almost impossible to comprehend. Elsie's explanations made no sense to him; she was a dear friend and he didn't want to lose her, but how would he ever be able to look at her without being reminded of twenty years of lies and his lost chance at being a father to his son. Perhaps with time the ache would fade, but right now simply sitting with her was almost too painful to bear.

"I should be going. I have a lot to catch up on from this morning". He tried to make his excuses but was quickly interrupted.

"Wait, there's something I have to tell you before you go". He wanted nothing more than to ignore her and retreat to his pantry, but the pleading edge to her voice kept him in his seat.

She chewed on her lip nervously, a familiar gesture that he usually found endearing. It reminded him of the young woman who had arrived at Downton all those years ago and so completely enthralled him that he'd thrown propriety aside for a few wonderful months. Right now, however, he wished only that she would get to the point quickly so that he could get away from those suddenly painful memories.

"Do you know why I decided to tell you about James now?" she asked softly.

He stared at her incredulously, feeling the anger building. "As opposed to twenty years ago when you found out you were pregnant with my child? Or when he was born? Or when you came back to Downton? Or any day since then?"

She hastily wiped away a stray tear with the back of a shaking hand, but he found himself unable to stop the rush of bitterness. "How many times have we sat in this room together Mrs Hughes? How many glasses of wine and cups of tea have we shared? You could have told me at any time; you should have …"

"He wrote to me", she interrupted fiercely.

Charles was aware of sitting there with his mouth agape, but he found himself unable to do anything but stare dumbly at her, his temper dissipating with every heavy exhale.

She swiped at her cheeks again before continuing more gently. "I left a letter with his adopted parents to explain. I couldn't bear the thought of him thinking badly of me … of us. I had to tell him how much I loved him".

She raised her eyes from their intense study of the table top and gave him a small watery smile. "I told him that it was my choice and that I didn't give you a chance. I said he could write to me if he ever wanted to, but I didn't dare to hope that he actually would".

Her tears were falling freely now and he wordlessly offered his handkerchief to her, still unable to form any coherent thoughts, let alone speech, as she dried her eyes.

She quickly retrieved a small envelope from her desk and held it out to him. "I received this yesterday".

He could feel her eyes on him as he carefully unfolded the paper and read the short message.

"I didn't want to tell you about him when there was nothing you could do; when you wouldn't be able to know him, but now there's a chance…"

Her voice washed over him as he stared at the signature swimming in front of his eyes. He took several shuddering breaths, trying to take in the fact that he was looking at his son's name, written in his own hand.

"Have you replied yet?" he finally asked hoarsely.

"Not yet, I wanted to talk to you first. I tried to tell you last night but you walked out before.." her voice faltered as she caught the flash of anger in his eyes.

"Well I'm sorry that it took me a little longer to deal with your news than you wanted".

"I didn't mean it like that. I only meant.." she stammered and fell silent, apparently realising that she didn't know what she'd meant either.

Charles rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension and calm himself again. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to write to him and suggest that we meet. I was hoping that you might want to come too, if we can work the schedules out, of course".

Her mention of work shook him, reminding him of their positions in this house and the difficulties they would both face when everyone else found out about this. He shuddered to think of the reaction of his lordship, he would probably demand both of their resignations. And what of the other servants? How could either of them possibly retain their respect after this?

He tried to push the thoughts away and focus on the opportunity to meet his son. An opportunity he'd spent most of the night convinced he would never get.

"We'll work something out Elsie".

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><p><em><strong>Coming up … we finally meet James<strong>_


	6. Chapter 6

_**So … it's been far too long since I last updated this. It's been on my mind since then (it's planned right up to date with the series in my head), but a combination of illness and other annoying problems has left me with little time or energy to write it down. So here goes … chapter the sixth.**_

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><p>Elsie hurried through the hallway, an envelope clutched tightly in one hand. Lady Edith gave her a curious look as she hurried past towards the library, but she barely gave it a second thought as she paused in the doorway and caught Mr Carson's attention.<p>

'Mrs Hughes?', his expression was guarded, cautious, as it had been so often in the days since she had told him of their son.

Elsie missed the easy companionship they shared; the quiet conversations in the evenings over a glass of wine. Of course, they still spoke about the business of the house, but only in the most professional of tones, devoid of the easy smiles and familiar banter that she had come to cherish. It was a truce of sorts, but a fragile one; a delicate bandage over a painful wound.

'Could I have a moment Mr Carson?'

She noticed a moment of hesitation, as his eyes darted briefly towards the seated form of Lord Grantham at the desk, before he gave a curt nod and joined her at the door.

'What can I do for you Mrs Hughes?'

She pressed the slightly crumpled letter into his hand excitedly. "I've gotten a reply from James. He says he will meet us in Ripon on Wednesday afternoon.'

Charles shook his head slightly, turning the envelope over in his hands but making no move to open it. "No Mrs Hughes, he will meet _you_ in Ripon on Wednesday'

She recoiled, stung by his tone, 'but Charles', she whispered urgently, trying to avoid drawing the attention of the Earl. 'I thought you wanted to meet him too?"

"I do, very much so, but I would rather do so separately. I'm sure that your meeting will be more comfortable without me'.

"Charles..", she reached for his arm, meeting thin air as he stepped backwards.

"Perhaps it would be appropriate to leave further discussion to another time, Mrs Hughes", he dismissed her with a nod as he turned back into the room.

Elsie could do nothing but stare at his retreating back, confused by his change of heart.

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><p>That evening, Elsie retired to her sitting room almost as soon as the dinner plates had been cleared away. She had been out of sorts since her encounter with Charles, and Mrs Patmore's antics had frayed whatever nerves she had left.<p>

As she sank gratefully into the soft cushions of her settee, Elsie allowed herself to be lulled by the familiar and comforting sounds of the other servants moving about in the rooms and corridors around her. Daisy was clattering about in the kitchen; the soft tinkling of piano keys told her that William was in the servants' hall and, most likely, that Mr Carson was not. He'd been hard on the boy recently, the difficulties of the past few days clearly adding to his growing frustration at being a footman short.

The rhythmic tapping of a cane signalled Mr Bates' progress towards the back door, followed by Anna short minutes later. By all rights she should be rushing out into the courtyard to scold them both, but their actions raised nothing more than a wry smile. It would be such hypocrisy to deny them the innocence of their quiet evening meetings when she had done so much worse in this very house. Their stolen kisses and embraces simply did not compare to the way she and Charles had once sneaked into attics and unused rooms. More importantly, Anna was a sensible young woman and Mr Bates honourable to a fault - there would be no worries where they were concerned.

She had almost dozed off when another set of footsteps caught her attention and after so many years she didn't need any clues to recognise Charles' soft measured gait. The steps echoed closer and then paused. She saw the shadows of his feet in the light spilling under the door and waited for his knock, steeling herself for another strained encounter.

...

Charles stared at the door, shifting slightly on the balls of his feet as he considered his next move.

Of course, they went weeks without talking privately during the season, but going without such a simple comfort when they were in the same house had made him more distracted than he liked to admit.

He raised his hand towards the door but stopped just before he made contact, reaching instead to adjust his collar slightly. He imagined the picture he must make - the stern butler of Downton dithering in the corridor like a nervous schoolboy. He squared his shoulders and was just about to knock when the back door clicked open, a rush of cold air accompanying the figures of Mr Bates and Anna.

"And what precisely were you two doing outside at this time of night?" he rumbled.

Mr Bates looked sheepish, but Anna merely smiled and answered confidently, "just getting some air Mr Carson. I sometimes find it rather stifling to be cooped up inside all day and Mr Bates was kind enough to keep me company."

Charles snorted slightly; he knew very well what was going on, but Elsie seemed content with the situation and, despite their current problems, he trusted her instincts.

"Well I think you've had enough air for tonight. Mr Bates, would you be good enough to lock the door behind you."

"Of course, Mr Carson"

Charles knocked on the door and entered before either of them could question why he had been loitering in the corridor. He pretended not to notice the secret smile they shared as he passed.

...

Elsie listened to the murmurs of conversation outside her door, the deep rumble of Mr Carson contrasting with Anna's light and upbeat tone. She was surprised at the lack of sharpness in Charles' voice; he was usually so concerned about any so-called 'attachments' between the staff. However, Anna and Mr Bates had proved their worth on countless occasions over the past few years - perhaps he also thought that they deserved a little leeway.

She was jolted out of her musings as the door suddenly swung inwards to reveal Charles silhouetted against the brighter light of the hallway.

He held up a hand in apology as he pushed the door shut behind him.

"I'm sorry Mrs Hughes, I didn't mean to startle you"

"That's Ok Mr Carson; I was miles away …"

"Somewhere nice, I hope", he teased gently.

Elsie felt her lips quirk slightly in response, surprised but heartened by his friendlier tone.

"Was there something that you wanted?

"Oh yes…", he gestured towards the chair opposite and sat down after her nodded reply.

"I wanted to … clear the air, so to speak"

"Oh?"

"I realise that I was rather sharp when we spoke this morning and I don't want to leave you with the wrong impression". His eyes were soft, matched by his tone, allowing Elsie to feel hopeful for the first time in days.

"You see, I've been thinking a great deal about meeting James"

_You're not alone there_, Elsie thought, but held her tongue, not wishing to aggravate him when he was trying to make peace.

"As much as I would like to accompany you, I can't help but conclude that it is a bad idea"

"Charles.." she started to protest only to be cut off by his small sigh.

"Elsie, surely you can see that it will be difficult enough for the boy to be meeting his mother for the first time? I don't want to make things even harder"

"I suppose you're right" she conceded, wondering why she hadn't considered it herself.

"And then there are the practical issues to consider"

"Such as?"

"Well I'm sure the rest of the staff will come up with some interesting explanations for our sudden need to have time off together. I want us to be able to deal with this in private, without the pressure of gossiping maids and hallboys."

"You forgot cooks" she added with a small smile.

The answering snort lifted her spirits, "of course, how could I overlook Mrs Patmore's skills in that area. In any case, I hope that you will be able to forgive my rudeness enough to tell me everything when you get back from Ripon on Wednesday?"

She couldn't help but beam at him "I doubt that you'll be able to shut me up, Charles"

* * *

><p>Elsie adjusted her hat nervously before returning her hand to its vice-like grip on her handbag.<p>

She'd had to arrive early, hadn't she? It had seemed like such a good idea this morning; she'd make sure she wouldn't be late and would use any free time browsing in some of the nearby shops.

In reality, the bus had been perfectly on time and she'd managed barely 10 minutes looking at the new fabrics in Chamberville's before she had been overcome by nerves and sought the solitude of this tense vigil.

With every passing minute she became more afraid that James simply wouldn't turn up, all the while staring hopefully at every likely candidate who approached the doorway where she waited so fretfully. It was sobering to think that she could so easily walk past her own son in the street and not recognise him: not even give him a second glance.

As she turned to look back down the road, she saw another young man approaching. She tried to quell the sense of excitement brought on by his similarities to Charles, from his imposing height to the dark hair visible beneath his hat, and, as he drew nearer, the familiar eyes.

His pace slowed as he saw her waiting on the pavement and Elsie couldn't remember ever having felt so happy, relieved and terrified all at once. He came to a halt in front of her and as she looked up to meet his gaze she could see similar feelings mirrored in the soft brown eyes.

'James?', the fragile voice that broke the silence was barely recognisable as her own. She grasped a large hand between her own trembling ones.

'Oh, my Jamie', the tears began to trickle steadily down her cheeks as she spoke. 'You're here … you're really here'.

And suddenly, she was sobbing quietly into the lapel of his coat as a shaking arm pulled her closer.

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><p><em><strong>Love it? Hate it? Want to go to the movies with it? Let me know in the reviews..<strong>_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Wow, it's been a loooong time since I last updated. Sorry :-( I've been distracted by long-term illness, losing my job and lately (and more happily) grad school applications. Thanks to everyone who left comments in the extended hiatus - they spurred me to continue!_**

**_If anyone is still reading, here is a short chapter to keep things moving. I hope it won't be as long before I update again._**

* * *

><p>Elsie stirred her tea methodically, using the moment of silence to marshall her thoughts, searching for a way to continue the conversation.<p>

After the awkward embrace outside, the sense of embarrassment had led her into exchanging polite, and rather pointless, small talk as she and James had found a table and placed their order. At first she was glad of the distraction offered by the necessary formalities in order to rebuild the slightly frayed edges of her composure. Now, she simply wanted to find the courage to steer the conversation towards something more meaningful than "how was your journey?"

"I hadn't realised how strange this would be" James suddenly said with a wry smile, picking at a non-existent speck on his sleeve. "There are so many things I've wanted to ask you for so many years and now here you are and I can't work out what to say".

She smiled, somehow comforted by their shared discomfort.

"Thank you" she blurted, keen to keep the conversation moving.

"For what?" James had his father's puzzled frown.

"For writing to me. For wanting to meet me. I hoped, of course, but I don't think I ever really dared to believe …" Elsie trailed off, chewing on her lip nervously.

"I've always wanted to. Ever since my parents ..", he looked up sharply, ".. my adopted parents, I mean"

"It's OK" she quickly cut in, "they're your parents in all the ways that matter. How could I possibly begrudge them that".

James smiled sheepishly in return, "well, ever since they told me about you, I've wanted to meet you. I was always too scared though". He fiddled with the teaspoon, eyes fixed on the shifting reflections. "i thought you might have moved on with your life … forgotten me".

"Oh Jamie … never. There hasn't been a day when I haven't thought of you". She reached out to take his hand, feeling the small callouses and traces of old cuts as she wrapped her fingers around his.

"When I held you just after you were born, I remember you could wrap your entire fist around my finger. And now look at you" she ran her thumb across the knuckles of his much larger hand.

The silence fell again as they stared at each other across the table.

"No one has called me Jamie before.." he mused

"Oh, I'm sorry.."

He waved away her apology "no, it's fine, I like it. It reminds me of when mum used to call me Jimmy - it felt special, you know?"

"She doesn't call you Jimmy any more?"

James' eyes dropped and his next quiet words were addressed to the table top.

"She's gone"

Elsie felt her heart lurch. "Gone?"

He nodded sadly "About ten years ago. Tuberculosis. I don't think my father ever really got over it."

He rubbed at his eyes quickly with the back of his free hand and Elsie grasped the other more tightly between both of hers.

"He died this summer … I couldn't even make it to his funeral"

"I'm so sorry Jamie", she blinked away her own tears, remembering that sweet couple who had been so kind to her.

"I'm in the Army you see, so I've only just been able to get leave for long enough to come back from France … "

Elsie didn't hear the rest of his words over the rushing of blood in her ears.

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><p><strong><em>TWIST! Those who know their history will be able to guess why James couldn't get leave in Summer 1916. <em>**

**_How will Elsie cope with knowing that James will be going back to war? What about Carson?_**


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